


Godly Devices

by caplanbuckybarnes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caplanbuckybarnes/pseuds/caplanbuckybarnes
Summary: Castiel was cast from Heaven to live amoung the humans.





	Godly Devices

To be a god, you’d be under a terrible amount of love and pressure. You had rules to follow and bellow out to your servants and your followers. Ancient texts and forgotten eulogies to remember. A life worthy of worship and following. A breath of freshness every so often. A life worth living wasn’t meant to be spent behind prison walls and isolation. Living in Hellfire, surrounded by discretion and traitors.

Castiel knew better than to disband against his upper officials. But he had, he’d killed killed, and then massacred his brethren, for what, however? A taste of glory? A taste of immense power? He wasn’t a saint, no longer, anyway. He’d been cast away, his holiness burnt to ashes. He had to rebuild every piece of his body. He spent decades climbing back up the ladder. He spent even longer regaining his status.

Castiel had become lovers with the evils of the holy. He’d fucked and rubbed himself raw as he transcended unto the holy ground of the human life. He’d die again and again to protect these foul loathsome creatures. He knew what the shadows bore when the human sight couldn’t grasp reality. He’d long since grown immune to the agony of his high higher. There was no God. There was no Devil There was only He and He only.

He’d grown extravagantly into the human life, getting into a life of crime, ruling city after city. Nobody loved him, yet everyone respected him. The souls he’d killed were collected and brought to their respective resting places. He’d met several of his old comrades, yet he never spoke a word to them. He had nothing to say.

He’s grown distasteful of his old life above the clouds. He’d grown disinterested in the ways of his Heavenly Father. He care not about Lucifer and his incessant mutterings as the shadows spoke out to him.

He buried himself in the cunts and cock holes of those whom would gladly give him the time of day. He feasted upon their cravings. He delved into their minds, learning their deepest desires and did as commanded of him, releasing himself over and over. He made love to hellfire, though he knew the dangers lurking around him.

He knew he would die a miserable human life. Though, as time flew by, he found himself craving for the grasp of death. He drank and drank until he would pass out. He smoked and snorted and pulled syringes into his body. He lost himself more times than he could count. He didn’t know where he belonged; certainly not on earth and sure as fuck not behind the pearly gates upstairs.

He was a weak and tired fool. He felt immune to everything around him. He felt as though not a soul would understand the discomfort he’d felt. He felt isolated. He found himself in and out of prison sentences and luck. He found himself getting rubbed off under casino tables. He found himself looking into the darkness and wishing for nothing in return.

He couldn’t escape life, no matter how often he tried. He couldn’t resist the temptation to caress gun holsters and barrels as he cleaned them, wishing, hoping for a tragic accident to happen. He was a prisoner, no matter where he strayed.

Human life was supposed to be grand and yet, Castiel felt weak and disturbed. He assumed humans were happy, spunky creatures. Yet, as he laid down every night, he prayed and prayed, staying up for hours, wishing the Lord would reclaim him and take him upstairs one more time. Every morning, he’d wake up, barking orders, killing some poor squabbler, fucking some whore in some grimy alleyway between storefronts.

He was once respected by his brethren, loved, even. He’d watched the humans with his father and brethren, asking questions, but never too many to annoy God. Humans weren’t God’s creations. They were forged from the lost angels that God had cast away from his sanctum. Humans were flawed, so very flawed, yet God loved them.

There was a prince to pay that Castiel would never be able to pay in full.  He couldn’t escape, Darkness meant little to him. The light had been too bright for his dull mind to comprehend. SO, he chose to suffer everyday. Drinking, fucking, injecting- whatever he could do. He couldn’t trust a soul, so he didn’t. He lied his way through life, bargaining with humans, killing most of them. Hell would have to be far more grand than living like this.

Surely.


End file.
